


The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions

by ChildOfRagnarok



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Child Abuse, Courtroom Drama, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Replaces HBP and DH, with a bit of humor thrown in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:04:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6520915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChildOfRagnarok/pseuds/ChildOfRagnarok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tonks finds out exactly how toxic Harry's home life is, she takes measures to get him away from it. In doing so, she unravels lies, plots and intrigue that will affect Harry beyond his knowledge. NOTE: Discontinued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Extraction

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters, concepts and locations therein are the property of J. K. Rowling. I own nothing except the plot and some original characters. This is a fan work that is not intended to monetize in any way. Please support the official release.
> 
> This story takes place immediately after book 5 and replaces books 6 and 7.

There was not much that could be said to be out of the ordinary in regards to Privet Drive. Its inhabitants got up in the morning, went to work, then went to bed at around eleven. The inhabitants of Privet Drive, and of Number Four in particular, were quite suspicious of people who didn't fit into their mold, especially people who walked around at midnight. Or people wearing funny clothes, or dyeing their hairs in all sorts of rebellious colors like purple. Much like the woman currently rounding the street corner, heading onto the street.

Nymphadora Tonks _hated_ guard duty. Oh, she knew that keeping Harry Potter safe from the constant menace of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers was paramount, and her Auror training made her the perfect candidate for the duty. Not to mention that the kid had a way of growing on you, meaning that she had a personal interest in keeping him safe. But still. When she had applied for the Auror's Office, she hadn't exactly had _babysitting_ in mind.

Tonks disinterestedly looked around at the houses while walking down the street towards her destination. As usual, the entire street looked photo-perfect, like something from a real estate manager's catalogue. All identical brickwork houses, perfectly trimmed lawns, idyllic flower gardens beneath the windowsills and hedges of identical height to the millimeter and not a single leaf out of place. If Tonks hadn't known better, she could have sworn that there was some magic afoot.

Her steps slowed to a halt as she approached her destination. Number Four. Home of the probably most important boy in all of magical Britain. She quickly glanced around to see if anyone was watching. She was almost entirely certain that nobody was, but her boss was always a stickler with protocol. No one visible, and a quick, under-her-breath cast of _Homenum Revelio_ told her that there were no prying eyes around. She turned around and quietly muttered: "Wotcher, Kingsley."

If anybody had been watching, they would have fallen out of their cozy armchairs at the sight of a tall, black man wearing an equally ridiculous robe as Tonks'. "Good evening, Tonks. Nothing out of the ordinary to report." Noticing her anything but enthuastic expression, he gave her a wry grin. "Eager to get to work?"

Tonks had to roll her eyes, even though she knew Kingsley was just playing her. He always could read her like a book. "Oh, yes. I _love_ sitting on a garden wall, freezing my butt off and doing nothing at all for six hours."

"Well, far be it from me to keep you from your work." Kingsley shot her another grin. "Enjoy your stay. You know where to find me if you need me." And with a turn on the spot and a twist of his cape, he had Disapparated.

Tonks gave a long, low sigh before casting a Disillusionment Charm on herself and sitting down on the wall. She looked at her watch. 12:05 AM. Six hours of absolutely nothing.

* * *

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, or the Chosen One as he was also being called these days, was currently lying on his bed, brooding. While he had never been the most cheerful of individuals, his brooding had taken a new turn after the events at the Department of Mysteries. Hardly surprising, considering what he had lost that day.

_Your fault._

_Sirius is dead._

_Hero syndrome._

Harry could barely drag himself out of bed each morning; if it hadn't been for his uncle's not-even-thinly veiled threats about what would happen to him if breakfast wasn't on the table at 7 o' clock sharp, he probably wouldn't even get up. Dudley tended to avoid him, and Aunt Petunia generally preferred to pretend that he didn't exist. Not that it mattered to Harry. Either way, Sirius was dead, his father-brother figure was gone forever, and it was his fault.

He was so engrossed in his misery that he didn't even notice Hedwig's indignant screeching until it was too late.

_"Boy!_

Harry quickly unlocked the snowy owl's cage and let her out of the window to hunt. He knew she had only signaled her boredom and couldn't know what was going on, and he didn't want her to see what he knew was coming to him.

No sooner had Hedwig soared out the window when Uncle Vernon barged in through the door with a speed belying his girth. His pudgy face was red with fury and the vein at his temple was throbbing like crazy.

"Well?!" the man demanded. "What time would you call this?"

"I'm sorry, Uncle", Harry said weakly. "I was just..."

Harry didn't have time to finish his sentence before a large, meaty fist collided with his solar plexus, leaving him winded.

"Haven't I warned you to keep your ruddy bird in check? I've told you over and over what would happen, boy!" Even in Harry's addled state, he recognized the hint of savage joy in his uncle's tone. Harry couldn't remember exactly what Uncle Vernon had threatened him with, because he'd threaten him with all sorts of things if he didn't start, or finish, his chores to the T right on cue. But whatever Uncle Vernon had threatened him with, he was obviously going to make good on it.

Just as Harry was finishing this reasoning, his uncle struck out. Another haymaker, to the face this time. Harry felt the dull crunch of his nose breaking and bile rose in his throat. He fell to the ground, unable to get up. But Vernon was just getting started, continuing to dole out repeated, savage kicks to his chest and stomach area. Harry felt several somethings snap, he couldn't scream, his mouth was filling with blood, he could barely breathe, and the last thing he saw before his mind withdrew into itself was his uncle's bloodthirsty smile.

* * *

The white blur dashing away from the upper left bedroom window of Number Four, Privet Drive, was just enough to wake Tonks from her state of half-daydreaming. A quick glance at her watch told her that the time was 12:12 AM.

Was that Hedwig? That must have been Hedwig. But why would Harry have let her out at this time of night?

A crashing noise was heard from the still-open window, and Tonks quickly refocused her attention on the window. There was Harry all right, but there was something moving in front of him. A large man, it looked like. It had to be his uncle. What was he doing in there?

The answer presented itself when she saw the man lash out in a rapid motion and Harry disappeared. A cold fear fell over Tonks and she immediately grasped in her pocket for her Communication Coin. Communication Coins were a little something that the assigned Potter guard used to communicate with each other, inspired by the coins that Dumbledore's Army had used. A Protean Charm placed on the coins meant that messages could be relayed instantly and inconspiciously.

_Emergency situation at Dursley residence. Request assistance._

A moment later, Kingsley's hand was on her shoulder. "What's the situation?"

Tonks pointed up to the window, where Dursley was now moving in a way that suggested that he was kicking someone repeatedly. Kingsley's mien became serious.

"Is that..."

"Yes." Tonks nodded. "That's Harry's bedroom."

The two Aurors looked at one another before nodding and setting off towards the house.

* * *

Harry was sprawled, bloodied and near unconscious on the floor. And above him stood his uncle, panting with the exertion of "disciplining" his nephew, hands dripping with blood. But he wasn't done yet.

"Well, boy?" he said, savagely grinning. "Why don't you use your freakishness to heal up?"

No answer. Harry wasn't in a state to give one.

"For fifteen years, I've given you shelter" - another kick - "let you eat at my table" - another kick - "given you the clothes off my back" - another kick - "and you repay me by ruining my sleep with your bloody owl!" Another kick. "But no more!"

He looked down on the boy. Ungrateful whelp. He was dropped on their doorstep and ruined their lives. But no more. He straddled the prone boy, pinning his arms down to prevent any weak struggling Harry might be capable of putting up, and laid his hands around his neck.

He could feel Harry's slightly agitated pulse beating through his carotid. He saw the fear in Harry's eyes, and he _relished_ it. All it would take would be one move. One more move. One more squeeze, and all his problems would be over. He wouldn't be saddled with the freak anymore, and he could go back to his sweet life with only Petunia and Dudders, pretend that these past fifteen years had never seen another occupant of the house. One more move...

_"Bombarda!"_

And then the door burst open.

* * *

Tonks and Kingsley were no strangers to rescue missions. They were, after all, highly trained Aurors. But their current mission may have been one of the most critical they'd ever undertaken, and failure simply was not an option.

A quick cast of _Alohomora_ got the Muggles' front door to open, and from there they slipped into the hallway, wands held high and ready. The sound of thuds and aggravated grunts from upstairs told them that they had no time to waste. They quickly moved upstairs, quickly glancing into the hallway and bottom floor rooms. There was no time for a complete sweep.

Upon reaching the upper floor, the noises doubled in intensity. An aggravated voice yelled out, interspersing his statements with brief pauses. And they were not alone. Two other people stood in the hallway, their eyes fixed on the bedroom door. Surely they could hear what was going on, but neither of them moved to do anything. It was enough to make Tonks' blood boil, and she could tell by the way Kingsley's throat muscles tightened minutely that it was infuriating to him as well. However, these two were not their priority.

The noises stopped, and Tonks' blood ran cold. In her experience, noises stopping could mean either one of two things. One, the victim managed to incapacitate their assailant at the last moment. Or two, the assailant was preparing for a final, ending blow. They had to intervene now.

Taking positions on each side of the door, Tonks held up three fingers to Kingsley, who nodded. _Two. One..._

Kingsley's deep voice bellowed: _"Bombarda!"_ and a brief flash of orange light flew from his wand. It collided with the bedroom door and blew it clean off its hinges.

When the dust cleared, they were greeted with a nightmarish sight. The iron-tinged stench of blood. A pool of blood surrounding the unconscious boy, gratuitous amounts of it covering the large man on top of him, who was apparently deliberating whether or not to strangle the boy. _He was going to kill Harry._

The man looked at the intruders and opened his mouth to speak, but never got the opportunity. Two shouts of _"Stupefy!"_ lifted him off his feet, slammed him against the wall, and knocked him unconscious. Tonks quickly conjured ropes to tie themselves around him before falling to her knees and putting her head on Harry's battered chest. She could feel a faint pulse and his chest rising. He was breathing, but only barely. He needed immediate medical attention.

"What are you doing with my husband?!"

"Dad! DAD!"

The other two occupants stood in the doorway, and had apparently found their voices. Hearing how they glanced over Harry's condition was infuriating, but Kingsley's gentle hand on her shoulder held her back.

"Get him to Saint Mungo's", he said calmly, but Tonks knew that he was just as angry as she was. "I'll finish up here."

While Tonks would have loved to clear up here, she knew the logic of Kingsley's statement. Someone had to get Harry to medical attention, and Kingsley was the more level-headed of them and more suitable to investigative work right now. Tightly hugging the unconscious Harry to her and sending one last blazing look at the unconscious Dursley, Tonks Disapparated.


	2. The Rabbit Hole

At this time of night, downtown London was not likely to be bustling with people. However, someone might have been out and about anyway, and it might lead to uncomfortable questions if Tonks was spotted by a Muggle while carrying an injured and bleeding boy. Therefore, Tonks decided to use the Apparition entrance to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

The moment she arrived, she was accosted by a group of Healers who began to ask her a flurry of questions about Harry's condition, background and so on. Tonks answered to the extent she could. Physical assault, no magic involved, attempted asphyxiation, severe bleeding, probable fractures and possible internal damage the extent of which she didn't know. The Healers took note and whisked Harry off. A junior Healer stayed behind.

"I'll let you know when we're done with him. If you want to wait upstairs, you'll be wanting the first floor waiting room. He'll be put in the Dent-Head Macdonald ward later.

Thanking him, Tonks trudged up the stairs and found the right waiting room. Even in her agitated state, she wondered why anyone would name a recuperation area after someone who was championing a cause to allow wizards to legally play a sport where ten out of twelve players were expected to die.

While it was irritating to her, Tonks knew that she couldn't really do anything right now. Kingsley was heading up the investigation, and he'd brief her when he'd made some headway. Her best option right now was to stay put here and guard Harry if anything should come up.

The minutes slowly trickled by, and Tonks felt more helpless than ever. She _hated_ sitting around doing nothing while others were working. But here she was, just waiting for an update from either area.

Tonks didn't know how much time had passed when Kingsley sat down next to her. "Any news?" he said in his deep, naturally soothing voice.

Tonks shook her head. "I haven't heard anything yet."

Kingsley nodded. "So we're probably looking at fairly severe internal damage in that case."

 _Of course._ Tonks didn't know how she had forgotten. Even when it came to physical injuries of no magical nature, magical medicine was nowhere near as uncomplicated as Madame Pomfrey made it seem. Broken bones were one thing - uncomplicated in structure and fulfilling a simple function - but the vital organs were much more complex to heal, and required great skill to heal properly. Tonks had taken the same class herself at Hogwarts, back when it had been available.

But a few years earlier, Dumbledore had revamped the Hogwarts curriculum severely. Basic Magical Medicine, Wizarding Politics, Wizarding Law, and several other classes were removed, and the overall grade requirements had been almost halved. Tonks couldn't for the life of her understand why.

But this wasn't really her priority right now. "How'd the investigation go?"

Kingsley's mien turned serious. "Both the adult Dursleys are in custody, Vernon for child abuse and Petunia for aiding and abetting. Amelia Bones is looking into their cases right now."

Tonks whistled. Of course the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would have jurisdiction, but for the actual head of the department to look into the case? Must be because it was such a high-profile case.

Just then, the junior Healer from before strolled into the waiting room. Noticing Tonks, he walked up to her uncertainly. "Are you the legal guardians of Mr. Harry Potter?"

Tonks was about to answer in the negative when Kingsley preempted her. "Mr. Harry Potter's legal guardians are currently unavailable", he said. "We're the ones who discovered him."

The Healer nodded. "Well, Mr. Potter's been through quite a bit. He had a broken nose, three fractured ribs, a dislocated elbow, a punctured lung, perforated spleen and a slightly crushed trachea. But we've fixed it all up, and he'll recover just fine."

While Tonks wanted to sigh with relief, she also knew from the Healer's antsy expression that there was something else. "However...?" she prodded.

The Healer sighed. This was where it would probably get ugly. "Everything indicates that he's experienced similar abuse several times in the past."

The following silence was so thick, you could have cut it with a Severing Charm. Tonks and Kingsley sat there, allowing the information to wash over them. This wasn't the first time Harry had experienced abuse like this. How hadn't they noticed? And why was Harry put there to begin with if that was the case?

* * *

Scanning the report that Tonks had quickly scribbled together and sent to her from the hospital, Amelia Bones leaned back in her chair, pinched the back of her nose and sighed. A child had been put through extreme abuse, not only once, but repeatedly during the last five years if the Healer in charge was to be believed. That any child would experience this was, of course, deplorable, but the fact that this was Harry bloody Potter made everything worse.

When Amelia had heard about Lily and James' deaths, she had been devastated. They were good friends of hers, and she had been absolutely _doting_ on baby Harry, almost to the same extent as she was with her niece Susan - a side effect of never having been able to have children of her own. Amelia had been unfamiliar with the Muggles that had been his legal guardians, but when she had tried to interrogate them, the only thing she had gotten out of them was that they demanded a lawyer ("a real one, not one of _your_ freakshows") and other slurs. Clearly they were hostile against wizardkind. Which, of course, begged the question: what was Albus Dumbledore playing at when he had put Harry there? And why hadn't anyone noticed?

Not that Amelia was overly surprised that nobody had noticed. For all their renown, Hogwarts knew next to absolutely nothing about magical law. If it hadn't been for Amelia being out of the country last year, she would immediately have called the illegality of Harry Potter being forced to participate in the Triwizard Tournament. According to the law, for a contract to be formed, a valid offer had to be given a valid accept - in this case, students at the age of 17 or older putting their names into the Goblet of Fire and the Goblet of Fire spitting out their names, respectively. As Harry was 14 at the time, never mind that he didn't submit his name, his offer was clearly not valid and should have been rejected by anyone with even a smidge of legal knowledge. But no one made the effort. Either they didn't know - or they were prevented to do so

In fact, there were several incidents in Harry's records that were really disturbing, to say the least. He'd had to fight a troll with no help from an adult, had to battle a _basilisk_ that was a thousand years old in its own environment, after braving a colony of Acromantulae to figure out what the basilisk actually was... Daunting experiences even for a trained Auror, never mind a twelve-year-old child. And Amelia could not figure out why Dumbledore, or anyone else at the school, had not sent for help from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as soon as children began to be attacked.

Another thing that bothered Amelia was that parts of Harry's records appeared to be expunged. More specifically, the parts detailing his birth and economic status. Clearly someone did not want Harry to know about these facts. But why? And who could have accomplished it?

 _Come to think of it..._ As a close family friend and one of the top lawyers in magical Britain, Amelia would have been made aware if Lily and James had had a last will. When she was informed there wasn't one, she hadn't been surprised - after all, not many twenty-year-olds tend to write last wills. But she couldn't help an uneasy feeling now. James and Lily had been targeted by He-who-must-not-be-named, and they had known it. In hindsight, they must have written out a will, just to be safe if the worst should happen. But it was only a hunch.

Sighing to herself, Amelia began to fill out the necessary paperwork for a custody arrangement. Harry was, after all, still a minor, and still needed a legal guardian. And goodness knew the boy needed someone to properly look out for him. She sighed again. There was a lot of fuss around young Mr. Potter, and she couldn't even claim to begin to know how deep this rabbit hole was going to run.

The custody issue could wait, though. It would take a while before Mr. Potter would recover enough for it. Instead, Amelia stepped out of her office and began to walk towards Diagon Alley. She had a few things she needed to check.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _so_ sorry for taking this long to update. I had a major lull in creativity, and what little I had had to be split between this story, my Ace Attorney fangame and a few musical projects. Also there's been a few meatspace issues holding me back. Hopefully I won't take so long with the next chapter.


	3. Author's notice (I'm sorry)

Hello, everyone.

There's been some silence from me for the past 10 months about this work. The reason for this being, among other things, writer's block and a few other personal issues holding me back, as well as the fact that the intended scope of this story made it impossible to fly by the seat of my pants, as I tend to do while writing. Also, I'm simply dissatisfied with the direction this work began from.

Thus, _The Road to Hell..._ is officially discontinued.

I will begin work on a replacement work once I've sketched it out a little bit beforehand, and it will explore the same concept of Harry being an abused child and overall AU, because let's face it, Harry's first bit of life is fifty shades of clusterfuck.

Sorry for ending it this way, and thank you for reading _The Road to Hell..._.

/ChildOfRagnarok


End file.
